


Last Egg-Void Tonight

by ElegyGoldsmith



Category: Last Week Tonight With John Oliver (TV), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, Crack Crossover, I have no excuse for this, M/M, One-Shot, RPF, Reylo is canon, so glad I got my MFA for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:40:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27590822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElegyGoldsmith/pseuds/ElegyGoldsmith
Summary: John's hands tightened on Desky. So stalwart for so long, his companion was rickety after such a rigorous pounding — but John heaved himself upright, steadying himself as best he could.He'd just drawn breath to speak his final word —Adam's name, of course; who else would he be thinking of in his last moments?— when a dark, lanky figure shouldered their way through the crack.In which Adam Driver superstan John Oliver meets the last person he'd ever expected.
Relationships: Adam Driver & John Oliver, John Oliver & Ben Solo
Comments: 35
Kudos: 55





	Last Egg-Void Tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [John Oliver](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=John+Oliver).



> Dedicated to our beloved John "Puts the O in Orgasm" Oliver for keeping us both well-informed and well-hydrated in this hellacious year. 
> 
> See you in 2021, you bespectacled bodacious beanpole 🖤
> 
>   
> 

Alone in his void, John Oliver sighed, the sound of his own mournful breaths reflecting back at him from the eggshell-white walls. Isolation sucked.

He missed his wife. He missed his children.

But there was one person he missed more than all others combined.

Adam Driver.

There were so any downsides to living in the void. His desk was a familiar companion, but not a loquacious one. The camera — even when off — unsettled him. What if the network unexpectedly changed its schedule, and that glaring red eye winked open with no script before him to read?

But no Adam Driver ... surely that was the cruelest stroke of all.

It was almost as though his writers were mocking him.

_ Relentless hillock. Fuzzy landslide. Menacing obstacle. _

Every week, new references in the scripts that appeared when he was sleeping, as though by magic.

_ Rudely large man. Nasty shed. _

The syllables fitting, evocative. The broad, brooding beanpole of a man haunting John in his sleep, lurking in the corners of his vision even when he was awake.

Oh, for even a cell phone! To look on Adam once more with his own eyes … but the people needed  _ Last Week Tonight with John Oliver _ ; the show  _ had _ to go on. 

John was a precious resource himself, a natural commodity. Goonish network agents had woken him in the night, conveying him from the dark SUVs to this sterile egg … and there could be no phones. No computers.

It didn't do to examine the finer points of his egg-void. Reality had become so strange, disconnected as he was from the rest of the world.

What did he drink? Where did he poop?

Where did the old scripts go — and why was he never hungry?

None of it mattered. Only Adam Driver.

Finally, after an eternity, John resigned himself to his lonely, Adamless existence. The few pale attempts he made to dress up Desky as his favorite meaty oak tree were fruitless.

Even Camera — though it stared at him with that relentless Byronic glare — wasn't the same.

* * *

John thought he imagined the cracking sound at first.

He'd been taking his Blursday afternoon nap (no script meant it wasn't a Sunday night at 10:59pm EST — ergo, it was Blursday) when he snapped awake, thunder echoing in his ears.

He blinked, but Void was the same as ever.

Still eggshell white. Unblemished.

Until a second enormous rending shook the air — and John braced behind Desky in terror as a jagged crack emerged on the Void-wall directly opposite him.

Camera was so rattled they fell to the floor with a tectonic crash, shattering instantly.

No — the contagion!

The people  _ needed  _ John to keep them sane, and it was ironic that he needed Void to stay safe. To share not only his Adam thirst but a weekly reminder that all was not, in fact, okay or normal, and that they HAD TO FREAKIN' VOTE.

( _Editor's note: they did._ )

Void cracking could only mean one thing: John was compromised.

Even though there surely wasn't a vaccine yet, the air that skirled through the crack was different: like electricity & ozone, wildness & fury. It certainly wasn't the same recycled air he'd been breathing for weeks.

Void shook again as a third and final deafening noise tore through the strangely charged air.

John's hands tightened on Desky. So stalwart for so long, his companion was rickety after such a rigorous pounding — but John heaved himself upright, steadying himself as best he could.

He'd just drawn breath to speak his final word —Adam's name, of course; who else would he be thinking of in his last moments?— when a dark, lanky figure shouldered their way through the crack.

The sound caught in John's throat as he beheld the last face he ever expected to see.

"Adam?" John croaked, his voice hoarse after such a terrible shock.

Tendrils of the stranger's dark hair jounced against his angular jaw as he shook his head, huffing with the effort of breaking through Void.

"My name's Ben Solo."

"Ben SOLO?" John echoed the gesture, his glasses slowly beginning to mist. "Is this some kind of cross-worlds mashup adventure?"

Ben Solo lifted one shoulder in a lopsided shrug — and for the first time John noticed the hole in his sweater.

It was so ... charming.

It was a tiny thing. A mere curiosity. Yet all John wanted to do was sit by a fire somewhere, cozy as a hobbit, as he lovingly sewed it up.

Still, he started in his chair as Ben Solo stepped toward him, moving through Void as gracefully as a panther.

John felt himself flush.

"Do you want to get out of here?" Ben asked, his low voicing stirring John in ways he'd never thought possible.

Ben's intense gaze almost swept him away from himself ... but somehow John found the strength to breathe the only word that mattered.

"Yes."

John tried to stand — but his legs gave way after so much disuse. He pitched forward, clutching at Desky, but gravity finally had its way with John.

Void's wrecked floor rose up to meet him.

John gasped, but there wasn't even time to brace for jarring impact.

Suddenly, strong arms were about him, bearing him up and away from the humiliation, away from the floor, away from everything except Ben.

The Brobdingnagian behemoth bore him up easily, as though John only weighed a single stone.

Ben's face was so close.  _ Too _ close.

John could taste Ben's breath — like rock dust and fire.

"Where are you taking me?" John murmured as soon as he could summon the will.

Ben's eyes flashed with amber fire. "To AO3. They're waiting for you. Waiting for  _ us _ ."

John could feel his brows knitting. "AO3?"

The raven-haired man nodded, his stubbled cheek grazing John's glasses. "The Reylos live there. They save lost and forgotten things."

"The Reylos?" John pondered this a moment, vainly trying to ignore the galloping of his desperate heart. "I thought they wrote and drew smut?"

"They do," Ben admitted. "But they do other things, too. Like banding together to remember Rose Tico before her erasure, and mourn the obviously missed storyline of Finn leading a stormtrooper rebellion."

"And what about Poe being a spice runner?" John found himself adding. “That's a complete retconning of the Sequel Trilogy's own canon!"

Ben nodded solemnly. "I know. And so do the Reylos. They're waiting to crown you their queen."

"Queen?!" John gasped.

Visions of tiaras flitted through his head — but still he hardly dared to dream.

Ben shrugged again — easily, despite holding John close against his airfield-broad chest. "Prom queen. But there'll probably be a sash or something."

John gulped enough air to stammer out, "A-And who's the Prom King?"

"PrimeVideo's social media manager, I think."

John knew he was gazing longingly up at Ben's beautiful face, but he couldn't stop himself. "But you'll be there?"

Ben's massive hands tightened about John's birdlike body.

"Always."

Ben Solo would be there. That was enough.

John's cheeks ached as the smile claimed him.

"Bear me away, you ginormous willowy panda bear!" John cried — and Ben's corresponding smile made something deep in John's belly tug with longing.

It was hard to know that this was the last he'd see of Void (even though AO3 was virtual, because SOCIAL DISTANCING IS THE ONLY WAY TO GATHER RN) but to be safe in the arms of Ben Solo, on his way to recognition and glory, John could almost hear the Reylos' cheers beginning to ring through the darkness.

_ FIN _

**Author's Note:**

> Places I lurk:
> 
> 🖤 [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ElegyGoldsmith)  
> 🖤 [Tumblr](https://elegygoldsmith.tumblr.com/)  
> 🖤 [Instagram](https://instagram.com/elegygoldsmith/)  
> 🖤 [CuriousCat](https://curiouscat.me/ElegyGoldsmith)


End file.
